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Italy and Mathieu Bastareaud sort of ran out of steam in the Six Nations. The country went from the high of beating Scotland to away defeats in Paris and Cardiff, the schedule not really giving them a chance to kick on, while the centre went from his opening games, when he was unstoppable, to being put in his place by a quite inspired Mike Tindall. Who'd have thought it?

There's no doubting the spirit of Italy. As long as they have the Bergamasco boys it seems they will go down snapping at their opponents, even if their limbs have been removed. Or rather, because their limbs have been removed. I quite like the notion of a pair of Bergamasco dentures chasing Wales off the park.

With the game long lost, Mirco went for Mike Phillips who, luckily, is one of the game's more stoical characters (not), while Mauro drove in from the side of a ruck and upended James Hook. I know we are meant to tut-tut and say how irresponsible it all is, but I thought there was something noble about the brothers' indomitable spirit.

France plodded across their grand slam line, appearing very English alongside England who were positively French until the rain fell. Unfortunately, this was not long into the first half and it was the kicking game of France that kept them in the right areas of the field to deny Jonny Wilkinson from a drop at goal.

His one penalty, the single score of the second half, was a thing of beauty and the whole England performance, in isolation, would have been interpreted as encouraging were it not for the fact that it was the end part of a sequence. Perhaps the only thing it revealed more clearly than the one-off performance of Tindall was that Martin Johnson might end up with a winning team in spite of his selection methods.

It's all very well saying that the right to wear an England shirt has to be earned the hard way, or at least the expensive way – there being no such thing as a cheap cap – but it really shouldn't have been too exacting to sit down a little sooner and suggest that Ben Foden might be given a go.

Johnson's stubbornness, like the Bergamascos', is a quality, but it does require a bit of refining. Somebody is going to have to introduce the England manager to the notion of compromise. Good luck to the Acas rep who lands that brief.

If England didn't quite manage to upset France's grand slam Scotland rained on Ireland's triple crown parade at Croke Park. This wasn't quite the farewell to the stadium that Ireland had planned.

But the Scottish lineout was majestic, confirming its place at the top of the efficiency league in the Six Nations, and Johnnie Beattie underlined his place as a most forceful runner. Anybody that upstaged Imanol Harinordoquy as a No8 had quite a championship.

The result showed that between Scotland, Ireland, Wales and England – and I'm going to throw France in too because England and Wales could both have beaten the grand slammers – there is precious little. This means that either we are all milling around in our own pool of European development without finding the outlet that leads to the greater waters of the Southern Ocean, or it shows that we are sort of swirling our way forward in some sort of waltz, bodies spinning upwards or being twirled back, but generally progressing. The Six Nations is a pond or a barn dance.

This is an excerpt from The Breakdown, guardian.co.uk's twice-weekly free email during the Six Nations. Sign up now!